The monstrous machinery seemed to cry out in protest with sharp squawks and overarching bolts before all the relays slowly shut down, gradually dispersing the monotonous humming. It ended unceremoniously, without any colorful splendor to mark her crossing of the bitter finish line. Quite a far cry from a giant bird ripping the whole place to bits in a blinding but all the more satisfying explosion, she thought almost disappointedly.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands, admiring the pure, otherworldly glow with the same perplexity as the last time she witnessed it. Physical space with all its mundane constraints dissolved in front of her mind's eye, granting her sight again after many days of darkness. The quiet surge of power instantly separated her being from this tiny world, pulling her mind away from splicers, uprisings, and Andrew Ryan's enraged monologue still booming from the speakers.
She did not care to listen, for it did not matter anymore. Dipping her invisible fingers into the endless ocean of time, Elizabeth casually stepped into a faraway place she thought she would never return to. Monument Tower still stood high over Columbia's centre, looking over the shining city of the sky in this sunny afternoon, exiling Rapture from her sight into the far ends of her memories like the nightmare it was. Her one time cage had certainly seen more pleasant days, with the better part of the building having been torn down by Songbird a short while ago.
The Vox were no doubt busy bringing mayhem to everywhere they reached, the past counterparts of Booker and herself trying to find their way through the destruction somewhere in Emporia. Taking in the familiar sight from the edge of her old library broken in half, welcoming the sorely missed fresh air in her lungs and the loud wind whistling by her ears; it was all bizarrely peaceful. She wanted the blood, the fear and everything Rapture out of her mind, even if just for a few hours. It was time to regain her bearings and think, so she returned to the one place she could ever call home, with all its chains, walls and solitude. No one would reach her here, no one would even look.
The tired Lamb headed for the bathroom she knew to be still in one piece, dragging her creaking limbs as they rebelled against every motion. Hot water soon started running in her pristine bathtub while she slowly peeled the ragged clothes off herself that bore little resemblance to their original colors now. Elizabeth did not muse on anything while washing her hair and scrubbing her abused skin with soap. Her mind was completely spent, her head ringing empty. She realized she had not taken off the bird charm, but was too exhausted to do even that. Resting against the tub's edge, all the built-up fatigue finally took over as the distant gunshots lulled her to sleep.
It was well into the evening when the chilling air roused her from the deep, dreamless slumber. The bath long since cooled and she was not surprised to see the water being almost black after carefully emerging from it. Looking herself over in the mirror, Elizabeth was almost drawn back at the sight of her own face; her features all so different than on her final day of oblivious captivity. There was certainly something with her eyes, she concluded. The weight of all worlds, perhaps. Or the burden of dooming a child to death. The thought was shaken out while combing her short brown hair. She needed a clean head to plan her next move, whatever that might be. The sad pile of her Rapturian attire on the floor was unlikely to be ever worn again, so with a towel protecting her body from the cold wind outside, she set out for her old dressing room.
Upon turning to close the door behind her, she could have been shocked by the most pedantic couple of redheads in the universe standing by the threshold, were she less accustomed to their increasingly predictable antics.
"Are you quite finished?" asked Rosalind Lutece in her usual, slightly indifferent tone, holding in her arms a dark blue dress very similar to the one she first donned on board the First Lady. Maybe it was even the same one she left behind in Rapture.
Elizabeth shot an icy glare to both of them, but decided not to start rambling about her grievances just now, covered in nothing but a flimsy towel. She grabbed her old gown without a word, shut the door on the unflinching siblings, then reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed.
"Why now?" fumed Elizabeth with eyes that could kill.
Robert subtly turned towards his sister. "I assume she refers to the business with the girl."
"It must be so," said the female twin dryly.
"What else could I possibly mean?!" sneered the young brunette, infuriated by their obvious lack of concern about the tragedy. "You knew this would happen all along, didn't you?"
"Indeed we did," sounded the curt answer from Rosalind.
Elizabeth waited for one of them to elaborate, thinking that she would not need to blurt out the next logical question, but the twins remained silent, as if they were expecting her to do the explaining.
"Why have you just... let this happen?" she finally asked.
The reply came from Robert. "As we claimed during our earlier encounter, young Miss, the child was not our cross to bear."
"But we ensured that you would be alive to contemplate on the consequences of your actions," finished Rosalind. "After all, your survival was an outcome we did have a substantial investment in."
"Then why not warn me before I even stepped into Rapture?"
The two shared a knowing glance before the male Lutece spoke. "With a power such as yours, one has to obtain first-hand experience in its delicate mechanics-"
"-to be able to properly measure the extent of its reach."
Elizabeth blinked confusedly. "Even if someone had to die for it?"
Rosalind blew out some air through her nose, making clear that she found the whole ordeal rather tiresome. "Had you not interfered with the timeline's course of events, the child would still be dead. Her untimely end lies not with you."
"What?"
"You have the ability to see the same ripples in different oceans. I suggest you use it."
The bemused Elizabeth looked at Robert, who nodded approvingly. She closed her eyes in concentration, searching for Sally in worlds she never visited. Visions of a blond little girl with a headless doll in her hand came to her, eyes blue with no signs of ever being a Little Sister, taking someone's offered hand before stepping out of a rusty bathysphere and into the sunlight. A man in a light brown sweater, his face gentle and kind. The same blond girl as a grown woman, spending a serene, philistine life in Upstate New York.
Elizabeth looks onto other oceans, differing tides one after another, finding the same pictures and same outcomes. The same man in the sweater and the same girl with the doll.
She withdrew from the many doors just as nonplussed as she had entered them, breathing erratically as she looked upon the Luteces once again.
"H- How?"
"The world you became entangled with is a disturbance not unlike the one you came from."
"In fact," chimed in Robert. "The reason of both the child's and Columbia's rather bleak finale is rooted in the same individual."
To illustrate their point, the twins opened a tear for her to observe. In a haze of grey ripples, she saw the barefoot, ragged Sally approaching one closed door after another, hungrily shuffling through the bins for a few crumbs of leftovers. On the next threshold sat a coated man in a fedora, smoking by himself as he watched her. Finally, he pulled an unopened pep bar from his pocket and handed it to the scrawny girl, her sunken little face suddenly lighting up as if she had just witnessed the second coming.
"Knock yourself out, kid. You could use it," grumbled the man, his face and white sideburns now visible to Elizabeth.
"Comstock... Yes, I remember him mentioning this. She kept coming back there before he took her in. Why show it to me? Is that-?"
"The variable that wasn't meant to be."
"An invading new thread."
"An oblivious gesture of generosity..."
"...sprouting from a far-reaching anomaly," recited the twins, taking the words from each other's mouth as was their habit.
Elizabeth was trying to put the picture together. "So if Comstock was never in Rapture... Sally wouldn't have become a Little Sister?"
Rosalind shook her head, though ever so slightly, giving her the assumption that she was not far from the truth. "The girl would not escape the constants of her own. But the when and the how would indeed mark the difference between salvation and oblivion."
"She wouldn't have been at Sir Prize..." whispered the young Lamb more to herself than her uncanny guests. "Wouldn't have been taken by Cohen's men... and wouldn't have ended up in a prison where no one would look for her."
With a heavy lump forming in her throat, she saw through her own doors how the man in the sweater placed his healing hands on a fidgeting Sally. In one ocean, he found the girl in Arcadia, in another she was in Fort Frolic. But he always came for her.
Robert's bittersweet, almost sorrowful remark roused her from the returning sense of guilt.
"It is a rather amusing irony of the universe. Even when the former prophet acts on genuine goodwill's behalf, he brings along death where none existed."
Elizabeth's eyes darted between theirs, bereft of hope, her quivering lips opened and closed as she struggled for something to say.
"What am I to do know? Stop this Comstock from ever leaving? Kill him again?"
"That is up to you, young Ms DeWitt."
The name which Robert addressed her with took her as a surprise; she could not help also noticing Rosalind's tiny raise of an eyebrow.
She took a deep breath while gazing at Columbia's crystal clear, starry blue sky, bracing herself for a meeting long overdue.
"I better converse with the others before jumping into another detour. Maybe we can come up with something together."
The brunette turned her back on them, grabbing the handle of the door to the library before she threw back a glance towards the waiting twins. "See you in a bit."
They gently nodded in acknowledgement, letting her step beyond the door which did not lead back to the center of Monument Tower. Instead, Elizabeth was greeted by the familiar scent of the ocean, as dissimilar to Rapture's damp waters as it can be.
The countless lighthouses arched from one end of the horizon to the other, only connected by the criss-crossing net of piers basked in the soft orange sunset. On the pier which her own door opened to stood a group in a circle, while some were idly sitting on the edge, swinging their legs or just staring at empty air. Facing not one but a dozen different versions of herself had not become any less of a bizarre and unsettling experience since she first met them here. When exactly that was, she would have trouble figuring out. The months in Rapture could hardly correlate to this unreal mirror of time itself. For a few of her fellows who stayed here, it was but a mere minute.
All heads turned to her when they heard the clattering of shoes and the shutting of the thick wooden door.
"Thank goodness you're here!" cried a younger-looking Elizabeth who first jumped to give her a hug, long hair tied back and slender body clad in the white dress she also fancied once upon a time. The newcomer briefly returned the hug, petting the back of her other self as White continued to fret over her.
"She ran into a Siphon on her way and barely made it out," she sputtered worryingly, pointing at one of the sitting women. "She didn't say anything more." Her gaze did not meet theirs as she instead focused on the point of her sandy boots with empty eyes, absentmindedly tapping on the choker underneath her long blue scarf. She wore cream colored dusty rags layered on each other, giving the picture of a seasoned desert dweller.
Elizabeth inwardly named her Scarf in her attempt to distinguish her many counterparts with the same name, but differing paths. Some of their stories she was familiar about, some were still in the making. White was the one who was perhaps the furthest from her own experience. The Booker of that world had arrived at Monument Tower a few days too early; he had to break through guards and armed personnel alike. Even though the fight cost him his life, the Siphon got severely damaged. Cosmic powers had fallen on White like a bolt from the blue, giving her the freedom she craved, granted by the rescuer she never met. Out of the entire doleful group, Elizabeth pitied her the most.
Standing in the circle was Innocent in her spotless blue and white attire, who could not bring herself to embed that certain pair of scissors in Daisy Fitzroy's back, leaving Booker to put a bullet in the raging revolutionary when she turned on his panicked protegé. Ruthless was pacing in one place beside her; she lost her Booker to the eager Vox soldiers following the same rebel leader's orders. Daisy had not outlived him for long, Ruthless assured, her bloody clothes telling the tale better than words.
The others were harder to tell apart, all wearing variations of her past and present outfits, having life stories similar enough, yet different from her own. None of their protectors survived till the end.
At that moment, the lighthouse door she stepped out from a mere minute ago creaked open once again to reveal yet another Elizabeth in a torn grey jumpsuit. Code, as she labelled her for the black row of numbers tattooed on her right forearm. The tired, solemn expression on the young woman's face was the mirror image of her own, she imagined. White did not hesitate to greet this newcomer as well with the same concerned excitement she showed her earlier.
But one of their own was still missing. They had agreed to meet again once this set of Comstocks were dead, yet Cage ran late. Elizabeth hoped it was simple imperturbability instead of something damning, or even fatal. She learned the hard way that they were far from invulnerable. Out of all her sisters in arms, she and Cage shared the most identical journey in Columbia, with only a single little detail separating them; the charm on their neck.
As if on cue, Cage entered the scene from the adjacent lighthouse, in the same blue dress she left in, a calm but triumphant look on her face.
"Is everyone here?" she asked, doing a quick head count. The others nodded. "Are they dead?"
The question was targeted to the three of them who each had gone after the fugitive prophets; Bird, Scarf and Code. They glanced at each other before slowly nodding again. White cautiously approached her, a little afraid to inquire on Cage's own success in the world she had prematurely left behind herself. Cage put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He's finished."
White tried to process the information with a blank face, which only ended up looking as troubled as before while Cage turned back to the rest of the group.
"Well then, I suggest we take some time off to rest and continue the plan later. There are still so many more out there," she sighed wearily.
Elizabeth, the one they called Bird, chose this moment to speak up. "About the plan... we need to talk."
Her eyes were met with puzzled reactions, all except for Scarf and Code. The two of them knew what she was about to say, she suspected, and would have done the same themselves were she to stay silent.
The exchange did not fly over Cage's head. "What happened?"
Bird took a deep breath, but decided against reciting the whole story in all its detail. The point she was about to make needed more attention.
"We better go to somewhere more... comfortable. This might take a while," she said, gesturing at the narrow, wet piers.
"Okay... do you have a place in mind?"
Bird silently stepped aside, pointing at the lighthouse door behind her. She waited until the group entered it one by one, trusting her guidance yet being slightly put off by her antics. Cage shot her an unreadable look, but continued to go through nevertheless.
Scarf and Code however stood by her side as if they were reading her thoughts, being sure she had wanted them to stay behind. The Bird from Rapture looked them over thoroughly, her gaze then resting on their crestfallen face.
"A Siphon?" she guessed.
A yes from Scarf and a no from Code sounded simultaneously, the two giving each other confused frowns.
"So you weren't trapped?" asked an amused Scarf.
"No," Code shook her head. "But it... wasn't going nearly as smoothly as I planned," she continued mournfully, hanging her head down.
"Someone died who shouldn't have had to," concluded Bird matter-of-factly.
Both the other hunters raised their eyes to hers, silently confirming Bird's suspicions. Scarf heaved an exasperated sigh, flailing her arms in frustration. "This just isn't working at all. None of this should have happened. Not like this."
"You're right. None of this should have happened," echoed Bird, her blue orbs becoming glassy for a moment.
"What are you thinking?"
Bird ushered them towards the door. "Something that involves everyone."
No further questions were asked as they stepped through the threshold together, entering a world with lush green scenery not far from a river, with hills and farms sparsely covering the serene countryside. The others were waiting in the shade of a lone oak tree, some preferring to stand while most already seated themselves on the soft grass.
Cage was the first to speak up. "So?"
Bird took a deep breath before beginning; the upcoming minutes would no doubt divide the group in more ways than one.
"I'll get straight to the point." She looked over the improbable team one by one. "We need to rethink everything. This can't continue."
The various Elizabeths were quickly shaken out of their impassivity, their unsure eyes darting between each other and the listless trio.
"Whatever do you mean?" blinked Innocent.
"Killing Comstock the way we do, one after another... it needs to stop. We are looking at the wrong angle."
"Oh please," Ruthless could not help a snort escaping. "Is this the point where you start moralizing?"
"It's not that," Bird retorted. "We are simply causing more harm than good."
"By getting rid of that monster? Really?"
Shrugs and disbelieving scoffs waved through the gathering as Bird continued. "The Comstock I was pursuing has been dealt with. But he... unknowingly put something into motion. A tragedy I couldn't stop from happening."
Innocent sheepishly turned to her. "Couldn't you go back and prevent it?"
"No. It already happened and will happen, remember?" corrected Code.
Ruthless was far from convinced. "So you made one mistake. How does this affect all of us?"
"Her name was Sally." Bird said softly. "She couldn't have been more than seven."
Code edged closer to stand by her. "It was a family, with children. I didn't even get to know their names."
They glanced at Scarf expectantly, though she chose to keep her own story unheard. "Too many," was all she whispered, her own gaze fixed on the thimble she had been rubbing for a while.
Cage was still leaning to the log of the tree, arms folded and face unreadable in the shade, even though Bird could have sworn she saw her eyes narrowing to slits. Due to their own complications during their respective missions, the three thought it probable that Cage must have crossed similar obstacles. Their suspicions were proven wrong however, as Cage calmly stepped forward into the sunlight.
"I didn't have any trouble myself. I walked in, sent him into the first storm cloud, and walked out."
One of their lookalikes threw her a doubtful glance. "If that's all that happened then why did you propose a break?"
Cage took a short but noticeable pause before giving her reply. "I imagined not everyone had it so easy. Turns out I was right." She smoothly turned back to Bird. "And what would be your alternative?"
It appeared it was the right question to pose, as everyone centered their curiosity around Bird again, including Scarf and Code.
The reluctant spokesperson's shoulder slumped as she motioned for the group to follow her to the edge of the hilltop. Once all of them joined her, she pointed down at a scene unfolding in the river a mile away, with a black-clad figure leading a handful of people into the waist-deep water.
"What are we looking at?" White's oblivious inquiry did not surprise many who very much recognized the setting themselves.
"It's a baptism. A quite... special one at that." answered Code, folding her arms. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking then-"
"You're out of your mind," snapped Cage.
"I know how it sounds like," admitted Bird. "But just think it throu-"
"There's nothing to 'think through'. You are about to kill all of us!"
Concordant gasps rippled through the group. "Wait, what!?"
Cage adopted a defiant posture, staring at Bird accusingly. "Go on. Tell them."
The harbinger from Rapture began her explanation with a long sigh.
"The shortest way the universe could be freed of every Comstock and all the suffering he caused... is to smother him in the crib. Here, where it all started."
Innocent's lips trembled as she asked, "What about Booker?"
"He will live on. Without tears, without flying cities, and without anyone taking his child."
"You don't know that," interrupted Cage sharply, further wearing off Bird's composure.
"If there's no Comstock, there's no deal and you know it. You're just afraid."
"Well excuse me for not jumping straight into oblivion because of some obscure fantasy! Do you really think that little of yourself? Of us? Along with our past, you would take away our future," the angry sparks in her eyes suddenly shifted to moist pleading. "All the horrible years we've been through mean nothing to you?"
"How could they not?!"
In a motion of barely contained fury, Bird summoned a window behind her back, pointing at the child playing chess with herself in an empty tower, her flossy brown hair held in an orderly ponytail as she continued to change seats after every move, even putting on a lovely smile for her imaginary opponent.
"Is this the life you're fiercely defending!? Do you think I don't remember every minute of it? We only ever knew suffering and that's the only thing we bring along wherever we go! Nothing we did have done anyone any good-"
"You're not making any sense."
"Really? Then tell me how it just so happened that whenever we used our powers to change the world around us, all of them just got gradually worse."
Bird's heavy words sent the surrounding Elizabeths into silent contemplation. Cage however was not about to give up her stance that easily.
"That girl," she too glanced at the little girl on the other side, who since stolidly left the chess table to sit in the corner, "is exactly the reason why we're here. We couldn't have come this far for nothing. Why are you so eager to throw it all away? We're not some disease that just needs to disappear, we are people! Don't you think we deserve freedom at last? Don't you want to be with the family you always wanted?"
This struck a cord with Bird. Trying to hide her teary eyes in vain, she shakily retorted. "I do. And so do everyone else who don't have a Booker to return to. Have you thought about them?"
Cage was caught off-guard as she stopped for a moment to look at the faces falling around her. She only now realized that the Lambs who still had their Shepherds were actually in the minority.
"That doesn't mean they are unworthy of life," she sneered. "We don't even know how many of us died already-"
"As a matter of fact, we do."
Everyone turned their heads to the freshly appeared twins behind them.
"110 Elizabeths and 117 Booker DeWitts to be precise," cited Rosalind rather factually.
"Not counting those remaining still in captivity," added Robert, then turning to his sister. "Which reminds me, we never did a satisfying estimate on that matter."
"Reason being that it's a positively pointless exercise."
"Is not."
"Is."
"Is not."
Their audience cared little for their usual back-and-forth as they were still reeling from the staggering numbers they just heard. Innocent was the first to find words.
"H-how can you be so calm about this? My God, so much death..."
"Though we realize this particular piece of information might be... unsettling to hear," admitted the male Lutece, "there could be no results without risks."
"Results?" scoffed Ruthless almost indignantly.
"I suppose the harsh reality of the hardships they were spared from haven't exactly got much appreciation, brother."
"Now, now sister. Them not noticing all the unseen hazards of their journey only speaks about the success of our careful coordination, does it not?"
Instead of further debating with his sibling as if the increasingly stressed young women were not present, he addressed them next.
"Young Misses, we can honestly tell without exaggeration that it was only due to endless planning, calculating, experimenting on our part, and unfortunately... blood, so that you could all stand here now."
After a minute of quiet processing, Bird risked a question.
"And what do you say now, was it worth it?"
She could tell from the tiny shift in their crow's feet that they were not expecting such inquiry, looking uncertain of the answer themselves to boot. To her brother's surprise, it was Rosalind who attempted to humor her.
"Our involvement in the regrettable events of your lives came with grave consequences. Ones you are now no doubt familiar with. Over time, we also came to recognize the... immoral nature of our certain deeds." The redhead's confession sounded unusually emotional to all around her; she continued regardless. "Choice was taken from you, and now it is returned. We paid what we owed. What will be done with that opportunity is up to you now."
The next question came from Cage, specifically targeting the older woman. "What do you reckon we should do?"
Rosalind settled back into her signature unflinching state. "You are unique individuals unlike any other life form in the universe, the entirety of which lying at your very fingertips. The way I see it, there's hardly anyone in the position of telling you what you should and shouldn't do. The only real foolishness here would be not to treasure such a gift."
Robert sent a timid glance her way but chose to stay silent. Cage was all the more confident thanks to this new confirmation however, looking smugly at Bird like her stance had just been legitimized.
Bird sighed inwardly. "Power is not what we... what I wanted. And I know it's not what you are after either."
"This is a waste of time. I'm done here." The annoyed Cage turned her back on the group. "If anyone wants to really work together then follow me away from here." She raised her hand to open a tear, only to notice that no one made a move to act on her proposal. Panic overcame her eyes as they darted from one sullen face to another. "You're not serious..."
Code stepped close to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, please..."
Cage was quick to shrug it off and approach Bird one last time.
"I'm not conceding to this."
"You don't have to. It will be done regardless. I'm sorry."
"You don't have the right, none of you does!" she screamed, tears falling freely.
Albeit her plight clearly affected the group, making some of them cry now as well, no one changed their minds.
When Cage managed to stop the shaking and quiet sniffles, she reached to take off her charm, angrily tossing it to the ground as a window opened behind her to the Sea of Doors.
"Then do what you will. The last thing I will ever do will not be sitting here, waiting for the end. There's something that no one shall take from me."
With one final tilt of her head, Cage disappeared in the tear.
Scarf hesitantly pointed at the faraway baptismal scene. "He's arrived. It's almost time."
It was obvious to all in the sullen gathering who 'he' was at this point. Bird's eyes were searching for the cage charm that its owner left behind in the lush grass. Resting it in her palm upon finding it made her unsure yet again why this small piece of crude metal felt so important to her.
White wiped her tears away with her sleeve, only for new ones to trail her face right after. "Shouldn't Booker... your Bookers have a say? He doesn't even know anything about this yet. About us."
Code, Scarf and Bird exchanged knowing glances. "Yes. He has a right to know," they agreed, not particularly looking forward to the all too painful reveals ahead of them.
"If you'd like to... I don't know... finish anything, now is the time," Bird sighed. "We'll meet again here."
The Luteces, having been observing the clash with curiosity mixed with concern, slowly withdrew from the scene on their own accord. Rosalind just gave them a sad but ultimately disapproving shake of her head as she moved to vanish to a place unknown, while Robert lingered for a second.
"Young Misses, it was an honor," he bowed, shortly joining his sister.
The group slowly dispersed, some sharing farewell hugs and comforting goodbyes before stepping through their respective gates, acting on the last wish of their hearts. Bird readied herself to summon her own portal back to the Sea of Doors when she noticed Innocent still sitting in her spot on the edge of the hill, not looking like she was about to go anywhere.
"Don't you-"
"No," she cut in. "I'll just stay here and... walk over to the river I guess. It's so peaceful."
Bird crouched near her to look the shyest Elizabeth in the eye as her body started shaking from renewed sobbing. "I can't do it. I can't look him in the eye and just-"
Her elder pulled her into a fierce embrace. "I know, and... you don't have to. It only needs to be done once."
"None of this should have happened... I wish-"
"I know."
They held onto each other for another good minute before Bird emerged to finally leave, giving Innocent one last squeeze on the shoulder. "We'll make things how they should have been. Goodbye, Elizabeth."
She brought in a tear of her own, slipping away from the quiescent country for the time being, returning to the sunlit labyrinth of wooden piers and aged lighthouses. Positioning herself in front of the right door, she caught a glimpse of one of her fellows doing the same preparation as herself. Innocent chose to stay behind, so it could only be either Scarf or Code, but since she apparently had changed back into the dark blue dress it was hard to tell. The door on her side then opened to reveal a baffled Booker seeing for the first time the endless copies of the lighthouse he entered long ago, during his ascension to Columbia. The other Elizabeth guided him along, saying words Bird could not quite hear. In that moment her own door crackled; she could barely restrain her heart from jumping in her throat and maintain a neutral expression for the guardian she had not seen for months. He could not know just how much had changed. Not yet.
Sure enough, her Booker showed the exact same awe she saw on the other one just seconds earlier.
Alright, here it goes. Keep it together.
"Look", she said out loud, spreading her arms at the dreamlike sight.
"It's us," he pointed at the pair on the adjacent pier, then looking at the other couple on their side, mirror images of themselves in all but a few details.
"Not exactly. We swim in different oceans but land on the same shore. It always starts with a lighthouse."
"I don't understand."
"We don't need to. It'll happen all the same."
"Why?"
"Because it does. Because it has. Because it will."
"There are so many choices..."
The childlike naivete in Booker's eyes had such a stark contrast to his usual grim frowns that Elizabeth almost commented on it. He truly did not understand.
"They all lead us to the same place... where it started."
"No one tells me where to go."
"Booker... you've already been."
And so they carried on the carefully coordinated path, through baptisms, choices, pain and regret, with Booker's overloaded senses strained to their very limits. To Elizabeth, it was not much easier. No matter how many times she saw these events unfold, the anger and heartache never lessened, now going hand in hand with her broken father's. He denied, relented, screamed against the horrors of his past he could not change. The same man who insisted on taking her to Paris just minutes before now sat in front of her in the dingy boat, beaten and hopelessly ashamed. Upon hearing his offer, refusal almost reflexively had come to her lips. She could not falter now, or she might never be able to let go.
"This is all Comstock's fault...What if I went back... killed him before he did any of this..."
Elizabeth sat in front of him with her arms folded, in the same boat they kept returning into, with Robert Lutece diligently rowing in the falling rain.
"Things get set in motion," interjected Rosalind Lutece.
"How would one know how far back to go?" added the brother.
"That's the only way to do it: go back to when he was born... and I'll smother the son of a bitch in his crib."
Booker's idea was expected, she nudged him along to make this exact conclusion. The morality of which she started to inwardly question, though she was careful to show no sign of it.
Once the boat halted once again they ascended the stairs together, approaching the lighthouse door she knew to be the final one. But as the one time Pinkerton reached for the heavy wooden door with the cryptic note still hanging on the front, a sudden sense of guilt came over Elizabeth, urging her to stop him at once. She softly pressed her palm against the entrance to their last destination, right near his calloused one.
"Booker... are you sure this is what you want?"
He looked at her, the curious change in her tone confusing him somewhat. Elizabeth now wondered if she let on a bit too much desperation, possibly ticking him off and ruining all her carefully laid plans. She caught herself wishing it did.
Please say no.
"I have to... It's the only way to undo what I've done to you."
Softly pushing the hand away, Booker stepped through, leaving a petrified Elizabeth staring after him, her feet rooted to the threshold. He was already on the other side. No turning back now.
But the woman could not bring herself to follow him, not yet. With the empty despair etched onto her face, she closed her fist around the cage pendant she had hidden in her sleeve and ran away from the towering lighthouse as fast as her panicked breathing allowed. In that minute, she just wanted to be as far from that fateful place as possible. Even though the time had come, she was not ready.
The clatter of her shoes echoed through the vast ocean of infinite, she was not even thinking anymore when she rammed into the first door she reached on the opposite side. The soil she taggered onto was something strangely foreign, yet all too familiar from her many daydreams during all those years of captivity. The gorgeous view of the floodlit Eiffel Tower illuminating the night sky made her heart skip several beats and lips tremble in awe. It was just like how she always imagined, only more beautiful and more unattainable than ever before.
The sparse passersby and enamoured couples paid her little mind, but the distant snippet of an English line drew her out of the momentary trance. She could swear she heard her own laughter coming from the root of the monument, and it did not take long for her eyes to confirm it not being a cruel game of her own mind. It was Cage, she knew even without the charm on her neck.
The cheerful girl could not look more excited as she led on an awkwardly smiling Booker to a street musician nearby. After properly tipping the man in the boater hat, he lifted his violin to strike up a fast-paced melody, in sharp contrast to the sleepy Paris around them. Cage almost burst with joy, even though Booker managed to step on her feet during his attempt at dancing more than once. It was all that Elizabeth could take before running off into the shade of the neatly trimmed bushes, collapsing on the soft grass of Champ de Mars.
"Êtes-vous bien, mademoiselle?" A worried Frenchman asked, politely bowing down to her, but went on to mind his own business after waiting in vain for the woman to react. She could not halt the onslaught of uncontrollable sobs any longer, hitting her fist to the ground, still holding onto the pendant under her fingers. In a rush of anger she even readied her hand to throw it all the way back to its owner, but the notion did not last long. Instead she took off her bird-shaped one as well, now looking at both of them in her hands as if to finally say goodbye to these weary witnesses of a past life.
Another pair of male shoes stepped into her line of sight now, one she recognized however from its unique brown linings on the cream colored leather. Robert Lutece offered his hand to help her get up, though it struck Elizabeth as odd that he seemed to be alone this time.
"Robert...? Why are you here? Where's Rosalind?" she asked confusedly, accepting the gesture.
"It was my wish to come by myself. As smoothly tuned together as my sister and I may be in mind, we do not always share the same sentiments over certain events, or certain decisions."
"You told her to not follow? That just sounds unlike you," she chuckled in spite of her mood, wiping away the remaining tears. "Why do you suppose she would not see my ways the same as you?"
"She was not the one who took that toddler from her father's arms."
Staring at Robert's stoic but slightly contrite expression, it only now occurred to Elizabeth how much she underestimated the man's struggle with his own guilt.
"You hope to make me change my mind?"
"No. I just hope to understand," he calmly said, shooting a glance of his own at the dancing pair in front of the Tower.
Elizabeth's head dropped with a heavy sigh. "The answer is the same as yours was. The image of that child from long ago is still haunting you. It is doing the same to me."
The following silence indicated that he found the explanation satisfactory enough, she thought. Driven by a sudden wave of emotion, the girl leapt to lock the redheaded scientist in a tight embrace, almost scaring him out of his wits.
"Thank you, Robert. Thank you for everything."
Lutece relented after a few seconds, softly patting the all-grown-up toddler on the back. She could even swear she saw a tiny smile from the corner of her eye.
"One last thing, though," she said while releasing him, placing the two charms of the bird and the cage in Robert's palm. "Please give these to them. No matter when or how, I know you will find a way. I would do it myself, but-"
"I understand. It was a pleasure knowing you, Ms. DeWitt."
With a final bow of his head, Robert Lutece flickered out of her sight, returning to a realm unknown.
Alone with her thoughts once again, she inhaled the fresh air of Paris as deeply as she could, this one last time. It had to be enough. She turned to leave at last, finally feeling truly ready. The gate opened to the solemn baptismal circle in the river once again, with her many doppelgangers already waiting. All standing knee-deep in water, the group seemed to silently agree on letting Bird be at the forefront. She did not protest, it was her choice after all. Bracing herself for the inevitable, she moved to collect a shaken Booker entering their midst in that second, just in time for Preacher Witting to begin his speech. "Booker DeWitt, are you ready to be born again?"
"What is this? Why are we back here?"
"This isn't the same place, Booker."
"Of course it is, I remember- wait. You're not… you're not… who are you?" he stuttered, his fragile grasp on the events shattering to pieces as several Elizabeths cautiously encircled him.
"You chose to walk away."
"But in other oceans, you didn't."
"You took the baptism."
"And you were born again as a different man."
Assaulted with the memories he did not remember, now coming down on him all at once, the final piece of the puzzle fell into its place.
"Comstock," he breathed.
"It all has to end."
"To never have started."
"Not just in this world."
"But in all of ours."
"Smother him in the crib," Booker whispered, echoing his own words from minutes before, now their real significance dawning on him.
"Smother…" the young women repeated.
"Before the choice is made."
"Before you are reborn."
"And what name shall you take, my son?" inquired the preacher.
"He's Zachary Hale Comstock," one grabbed his right arm.
"He's Booker DeWitt," another grabbed his left.
"No, I'm both," was the last thing he uttered.
Six hands pushed him under, many eyes helplessly watching, all of them past the point of crying. He instinctively tried to fight them at first, but the will to do so was diminishing with every bubble that escaped his lungs. The grips stayed firm, even long after Booker DeWitt turned Zachary Hale Comstock gasped his last.
They were still staring at the limp body gently hovering in the stream, like mourners at a funeral. No words were spoken, none were needed. One after another, the Lambs of Columbia phased out from reality without resistance and without tears. Bird was the last to remain, stubbornly holding onto Booker's unfeeling hand. She perished all thoughts about every horrible minute she ever had to endure, be it in Columbia's gilded cage or Rapture's hellish underbelly, and instead envisioned the wonderful future there will be. For Anna, and for Sally. They were the last thing engraved in her mind before she too disappeared from the world forever, her eyes raised to the endless sky of old, and the new life beyond.